


Long Way Home

by Cephy



Category: Tales of the Abyss
Genre: Alternate Canon, Friendship, Gen, Injury, Minor Character Death, New Game Plus Challenge, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-17
Updated: 2010-05-17
Packaged: 2017-10-10 16:45:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/101913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cephy/pseuds/Cephy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When it's all over at last, Asch tries to go home again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Long Way Home

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is alternate-canon as of a certain battle in the final dungeon, after which point a major character death does not occur. Contains the off-screen death of a minor character. Also ignores the existence of gels and other healing items for my own convenience.
> 
> Written for the DW community newgameplus.

The first squadron of Oracle Knights burst in to the room while he and the replica were still arguing over who was going to stay behind, which was about as ridiculous as the situation could get. But at that point it was too late to do anything about it; they quickly became too busy to do anything but fight off the sudden press of enemies. It was galling, having to go back-to-back with the replica, and a little unsettling to see his own artes fire off _behind_ him when he didn't trigger them in the first place, and it might have been those distractions that had him taking hits he should have been able to avoid. It was a stupid, rookie mistake, and it left him one-armed and dizzy and far too vulnerable considering how many were left to fight.

Another lucky strike dug a deep gouge above his knee; his leg immediately tried to buckle as shadows swarmed up into his vision. He fought it back as long as he could, knowing it was going to be pointless but having to try anyway.

Just before he blacked out, he saw the replica's friends all come pouring in the other door, weapons out and ready. Asch's last thought for quite a while was to wonder why they couldn't have shown up five minutes earlier.

When Asch woke up again, he was in his parents' manor in Baticul and Natalia was curled up drowsing in a chair beside the bed. She woke quickly when he tried to move and rediscovered his injuries-- his sudden spate of cursing might have had something to do with that, but damn it, he _hurt_. He could never quite remember what he said in those first hazy moments, but she didn't seem insulted so it couldn't have been that bad. She even willingly played nurse for him after, giving him water and helping him sit up when his stiffened muscles refused to let him do so on his own.

And then she filled him in on what had happened while he slept, which explained why her eyes were red.

He quickly discovered that his arm was useless for the time being, since it had been stitched and bandaged and strapped into a sling by some overzealous medic. He had a shallow slice in his side that he didn't remember getting, and several fractured ribs from crashing in the Albiore. None of which were really anything to be concerned about, in his opinion-- he'd had worse-- but then there was the cut on his leg, which he was told would possibly have him limping for the rest of his life. That was the reason he was still shamefully weak from blood loss, and had very nearly not lived to see the aftermath at all.

He had lived, though. Which he was having a little trouble wrapping his head around, since he'd never let himself imagine seeing the final battle from the winning side.

He spent much of those first days sleeping, or staring at the ceiling and wishing he was asleep. At least they hadn't put him in the replica's bedroom, because that would have been too much to tolerate. It didn't matter that it had been his room first, it wasn't anymore and hadn't been in years; he didn't _want_ it. He was in a guest room instead, one of the good ones in the private wing of the manor that were, fittingly enough, set aside for visiting family. A seemingly constant parade of servants came and went to change his dressings and bring him food; he mostly closed his eyes and simply waited until they went away again.

He began taking tottering walks around the manor as soon as he was able, ignoring the maids' fluttering protests. He knew his limits, knew how to deal with injuries, he had experience in that sort of thing. He kept to the walls for support and was very careful not to push himself too far, but he couldn't just _lie_ there anymore.

It was walking those halls, seeing the once-familiar scenery and having the guards salute him as he went by, that drove it all home to him at last and made him wonder just what the hell he was doing there. It wasn't like he really _fit_ there anymore; he hadn't lived that life in seven years. He shouldn't be making small-talk with his mother over meals or taking tea with Natalia. The servants all called him 'Master Asch', and it just sounded ridiculous.

If anyone was an imposter in that place, that life, it was him. And it was with a stab of something remarkably like guilt that he realized he'd taken the replica up on his offer after all, to have Luke step aside for him. It hadn't been intentional on either of their parts, but it still didn't-- didn't feel right. Every time he caught sight of the little plaque they'd put up for Luke in the front foyer, it stung.

Maybe it would be better if he just left when he was well enough to do so.

He saw Guy before Guy saw him-- a flash of blond hair in the courtyard with Pere, the sound of a laugh at something the old man said. According to Natalia, Pere had opted to stay in Baticul when everything was finally over; he'd said he was too old to move again but Asch figured he'd just miss his garden. He'd been tending the thing for as long as Asch could remember, anyway.

Asch moved forward carefully until he could just see the two of them-- Pere with his gloves on and dirt on his knees, Guy leaning casually against the wall nearby. Guy looked perfectly comfortable there, which didn't strike Asch as particularly fair-- he looked more comfortable than Asch himself did, and it was supposed to be _his_ home. But then, Asch realized uneasily, Guy had lived there almost longer than Asch himself had.

He watched for a moment, then turned around and took the long way back to his room instead. Which was where Guy found him, later. "So you made it after all," Guy said, coming to lean just inside the door.

It was too much like an accusation. "Don't sound so disappointed," Asch snapped.

Guy's eyes narrowed, but his mild smile never changed. "You first."

While Asch was still blinking at that, Guy pushed off the wall and strolled over. Asch gave him an incredulous look, but Guy just settled in and started talking, sitting there next to the bed as if it wasn't anything out of the ordinary even if he didn't quite look at Asch the entire time. He talked about the latest happenings in Malkuth, filled Asch in on the results of meetings in Daath and all of the major international news, which he must have known that Asch would appreciate.

And then he left. "Got to get back to Grand Chokmah, I have rappigs to walk," he said cryptically, moving towards the door. He gave Asch a lazy wave over one shoulder while Asch stared after him in a kind of bewilderment, and then he was gone.

To Asch's surprise, Guy visited him again. Even when enough time passed that Asch wasn't bedridden anymore, Guy always managed to find him-- in a place the size of the manor they couldn't avoid each other even if they tried, though Asch occasionally put in the effort just on principle. But Guy could be downright persistent in hunting Asch down if he felt like it which, for whatever reason, he seemed to do whenever he was in town.

One possibility did occur to Asch. And he didn't hesitate to throw the accusation right in Guy's face the next time he saw him. "If you're trying to turn me into some kind of replacement friend," he said bluntly, "you're going to be disappointed."

Guy didn't get angry, which wasn't entirely a surprise. It had always been one of the most infuriating things about him; he had rarely ever lost his temper even when they were younger, no matter how hard Asch goaded him. "Do I treat you the way I'd treat Luke?" was all Guy asked.

Asch frowned, but eventually had to shake his head.

"Luke is my friend," Guy said plainly. "He always will be. I owe him a lot, and if he were to show up here tomorrow I would be the first one to welcome him home. You're not him," he finished bluntly, and for some reason it made Asch flinch.

"Well, excuse me--" he started, only to have Guy shake his head impatiently.

"No, you're not listening. I miss him, yes. We all miss him. But he's not you, and you're not him. I think you're the only one who still has trouble remembering that. You want me to be your friend, you're going to have to convince me you're worth it." He shrugged. "Luke asked me to give you a chance, so here it is. Convince me."

He left before Asch could stop gaping long enough to come up with any kind of rebuttal, leaving him to spend the rest of the day in fuming irritation and with no other option but to think. And think he did-- he thought about wringing the replica's neck, which entertained him for about five minutes. Later, he thought about tracking Guy down and telling him just what he could do with his _friendship_. Later still, he thought about Guy teaching him how to hold his very first sword. And that night while his leg ached and he couldn't sleep, he thought about the moment when Van had told him about Guy's true intentions in Baticul.

_He's not you and you're not him_, echoed in his head. Which had been a stupid thing to say, really, because that was obvious. He wasn't anything like the replica, and thank Yulia for that. If Luke had made it out of Eldrant, he--

Asch blinked, and tried to follow that thought through to its conclusion only to realize he wasn't really sure how. His first instinct was to put Luke in the same position that Asch himself was in, which-- kind of contradicted the whole argument, didn't it?

By the time morning came around Asch had a headache and a sore neck and his leg still hurt, but he felt strangely clear-headed for all of that. He'd reminded himself of several things over the course of the long night, things that should have been obvious -- foremost being that no one could truly take another person's place in the world, replica or no. He'd known that once, all too well, from the other side of the equation-- he wasn't sure when or how he'd gotten confused on that count. So no, he wasn't taking Luke's place. Moreover, he didn't _want_ Luke's place. He didn't want to be accepted back just because he'd happened to be born Luke fon Fabre.

And damn Guy anyway for knowing he could never resist a challenge.

He'd never had any pity for weakness, not even his own. So he informed his parents over breakfast that he would be staying in Baticul for the long term and then made the slow trek over to the palace to find Natalia. They discovered over the following weeks that the two of them made a pretty good team; she already had the unconditional love and support of the people, but he could be ruthless where she hesitated. They even agreed, most of the time, on what sort of things needed doing, even if they didn't quite agree on the other details. He turned out to be better at it than he had thought, after so many years away from the political arena-- but he supposed that running an army, even a small part of one, wasn't _that_ much different than running a country.

The next time he saw Guy, he lifted his chin and stared him right in the eye. Guy's eyebrows went up, at first, then he gave back a crooked smile before turning away.

Time served to give Asch most of his strength back, eventually-- the limp, as predicted, lingered-- and let him finally venture out into the city to refamiliarize himself with his home. Guy somehow ended up spending a couple of days walking with him through the plazas, pointing out things and introducing him to some of the people they passed. When Asch started taking more and more of an active role in the country's politics, Guy was there too, smoothing over the tension that still occasionally arose when Malkuth was an issue of discussion. It could have been just a responsible member of the nobility trying to maintain the peace, but Guy was also there when Asch came out of a meeting frustrated and snapping at everyone, and they somehow ended up in the courtyard bashing at each other with wooden swords until he was too exhausted to be angry anymore.

His family held a small celebration in honour of his nineteenth birthday, which took him by surprise even though it probably shouldn't have. They all toasted him, which served to make him feel ridiculously warm all over-- and he found that when they quietly toasted Luke as well, a moment later, he didn't even resent it.

Guy was there, nodding a greeting and drinking both toasts. Guy was always there, it seemed.

Asch wondered if that meant he'd proven himself yet.

In the second year after they'd defeated Van, Pere died peacefully in his sleep. In recognition of his years of service and of his connection with the House of Gardios, the Fabres allowed his ashes to be buried in the garden he'd loved so much, and held a small memorial service once House Gardios' heir had arrived by special flight from Grand Chokmah.

After the ceremony was over, Asch went down to the kitchens and bullied an underchef into picking out a bottle of something high-quality and probably ridiculously expensive from his father's cellars. He had the man open it, recorked it loosely, and brought it out to the garden. As expected, he found Guy slumped there on a bench, staring at nothing.

He threw himself down on the empty side of the bench and wordlessly offered the bottle. Guy took it and upended it for several breaths, throat working; the glisten in his eyes when he lowered it could have just been the result of the alcohol's burn, but Asch wasn't entirely convinced.

Guy passed the bottle back, and Asch took a swig-- lifted his eyebrows then took another, more slowly. That underchef must have known what he was doing, after all.

They continued like that for a few minutes, drinking and watching the sun's slow crawl downward over the manor's outer walls. When he couldn't quite take the silence anymore, Asch glanced over. "If you get so drunk you pass out here," he warned, "I'm going to leave you for the maids to find in the morning."

Guy barked out a kind of laugh. "Think I've probably had enough anyway." He glanced at the bottle as he handed it back for the last time. "That's good stuff."

"Yeah, I think I'll keep the rest for myself. I'm supposed to start sitting in on audiences next week, I'll probably need it."

Another clipped laugh, then silence again until Guy sighed. "I'm sick of saying goodbye to friends," he said hoarsely, head tipping back to rest on the bench, eyes going to the sky. "I really am."

All Asch could do was nod, which seemed to be enough, and Guy sighed again as his eyes pressed closed.

Asch saw a flicker of movement and tensed despite himself-- but it was only a servant coming through a side door, head turning like he was looking for one or both of them. Asch made sure to meet the man's eyes before scowling; the servant's face went gratifyingly pale before he scurried away silently.

He hadn't thought Guy noticed, but when he turned his head he found Guy watching him, looking tired. He was smiling a little, though, when he turned back to the sky, and he shifted so that his shoulder butted against Asch's and stayed there, warm in the dusk's growing chill.

The bottle didn't quite make it to the next day after all, sacrificed for the greater good, but despite the resulting headache Asch somehow didn't mind. Because the next time Guy visited it was for no other reason but to see _him_, strolling into the manor with a warm, broad smile of greeting on his face.


End file.
